Blurred Lines
by xphile.1
Summary: Being "in charge everywhere," Fiona trying to get her way is nothing new, but this time she tries to have her way with a very resistant Myrtle. Not much of a plot so to speak, and femslash ahead, of course.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Standard disclaimer applies; not my show or characters. Just tarnishing them a bit. ;x Set during "Head." Written per the request/prompt of 'dointhetumble' because they're just the sweetest! :)**

Melancholy music created by a lone piano floated through the halls of a fairly deserted Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies. Myrtle Snow, the eccentric council figurehead with equally matched frenzied fiery hair, sat rimrod straight at the source of the tunes, her gloved fingers poised over the keys. She made sure to play quietly enough so as not to disturb her pseudo daughter Cordelia Foxx from her moment of respite. It was only minutes ago that Cordelia had left the room, leaving Myrtle to deal with Fiona Goode's sullen presence. Instead of acknowledging the blonde, Myrtle went back to the piano to continue playing as she had been doing before talking to Cordelia about her generously donated eyesight.

With a disposition of sophisticated indifference, Fiona had sat on the sofa drinking from her glass of whiskey and smoking her cigarette. Instead of continuing the catty argument they shared earlier, she watched Myrtle in silence, nylon clad legs crossed at the knee. Occasionally, she would tuck a thick lock of shoulder length blonde hair behind her ear, having removed her leather gloves as she was still getting used to the feel of the rejuvenated fullness of her perfectly coiffed hair. But her concentration was obviously on the cultured woman that had risen from the ashes, reborn into something much more powerful and spiteful. Allured by the sass the woman oozed as they exchanged barbed words, Fiona began to feel that the more whiskey she consumed in that short time period, the more the idea of seducing Myrtle appealed to her. From the begging-to-be-touched auburn tresses that exploded from the crown of her head to the milky white smooth skin that seemed barren of a single wrinkle, Myrtle was the perfect picture of unblemished art. Not one to pass up a good art piece, Fiona knew she had to get her hands on her somehow while the opportunity was still there.

Fiona's lips parted to smoke from her cigarette and remained that way as she stared at the oblivious redhead's hands. Keeping the cigarette close by her mouth and balanced between her index and middle fingers, Fiona chewed at her thumbnail lightly. Myrtle's hands were so controlled, so practiced. They moved with a mesmerizing fluidity across the keys, each finger moving with purpose. Tilting her head to the side, Fiona groaned inwardly, wondering what the lace covered fingers would feel like between her thighs. She felt an increase of blood flow to her center, and let out a long sigh as she finished her whiskey adding more fuel to the fire.

Time for a refill. Fiona uncrossed her legs with ease, even though she was shaking internally with desire, and moved to the cabinet a few feet away. She poured another hearty dose of whiskey, and seeing as the decanter was almost empty, her lips wrapped around the mouth of it to finish its contents. Clearly downing more than a shot, Fiona paid no heed as she only had one thing occupying her mind; and that something would burn at the forefront until she was sated. The outskirts of her mind were quickly becoming fuzzy, making it easier and easier to envision certain acts with the unsuspecting pianist who still never so much as stole a glance Fiona's way.

Well, something would have to be done about that. Fiona clasped her drink and cigarette in one hand, a second nature position she often held, and strode over to Myrtle. She detected a slight jump in the woman's figure, but Myrtle still didn't shift her attention from the piano. In fact, her musical flow never ebbed. Unable to take the lack of regard from the woman for much longer, Fiona slid onto the small bench impossibly close to Myrtle. Her free hand went straight to Myrtle's thigh to squeeze it gently.

"I saw that smile earlier, Myrtle. I'm no fool." Her voice was quiet and accusatory.

Not fazed in the least, Myrtle continued to play without looking at the impeccably dressed Supreme. "A fool can notice the simplest of things and misinterpret them, Fiona."

Fiona replied with a roll of her eyes and slipped her hand up and down the woman's thigh a few times over her silky garb. "I've seen that look more than enough times to know what it means."

"And so after becoming the supreme whore of men, you thought you'd try your hand at women?" Myrtle chuckled to herself at the unintentional pun. "I wouldn't go near you even if New Jersey was a tangible threat to my existence." Myrtle scoffed, scooting away from Fiona so the woman's leg was no longer touching her own, although the offending hand remained on her thigh.

"Oh, please. Don't tell me you're stuck in the bubble of archaic conservative closed-minded thinking like the rest of this country. Even some Greek poetry holds proof of feminine sway being natural." Fiona's hand was relentless, squeezing the tense muscle of Myrtle's thigh. "Sappho, for instance..." The glass of whiskey raised to her lips with her cigarette expertly balanced between two fingers, Fiona swallowed several times. As she let the pleasant burn of the liquid roll down into her belly, she set the glass on top of the piano. "Let's go upstairs and play, Myrtle. I bet you'd rather enjoy it." Angling her upper body closer, she brushed her nose against Myrtle's crimped hair, breathing hotly against the woman's ear.

Quite statuesque, Myrtle sat unflinching, never missing a note. "I've read such literature, and you're incorrect in your very miscalculated assumptions. Although, it's likely you miscalculate many life choices with the amount of alcohol you consume on a daily basis."

A brief glare was directed toward Myrtle and Fiona smoked from the cigarette to loft a cloud of smoke toward the woman. Fiona was accustomed to getting what she wanted by any means necessary, and this was proving to be damn near impossible. Myrtle wouldn't even look at her, let alone give any indication of weakness that she was open to the possibility of the physical intimacy which was coming to a heated boil within Fiona. It was time for another tactic. "You would deny the Supreme a request even if it could get you banished?" Fiona took a long drag of the nearly finished cigarette, her hand now gliding downward from the fleshy thigh to clutch Myrtle's bony knee.

"Without a second thought," Myrtle said with confidence bordering on arrogance. "I'm not afraid of you anymore, Fiona."

The nerve of this woman. Fiona couldn't take it. Stubbing the cigarette into the ashtray on the piano, Fiona abruptly stood and took Myrtle's wrists into her hands. Now Myrtle looked at her, but with annoyance. Fiona climbed over Myrtle's knees and wiggled her slender body between the piano and the woman. She released her hands momentarily to hike up the form-fitting pencil skirt to the middle of her thighs, and then straddled the woman's lap, both legs draped over the back of the bench, hip bones jutting against Myrtle as she scooted forward. Her back was uncomfortably wedged against the piano keys, but now she had Myrtle's full attention and her hands ensnared at the wrists once again.

"I know you want it, Myrtle. Ever since you came parading back in here with frumpy and dumpy. Those piercing glares of lust. The way you stalked around here trying to show dominance. And that fucking _smile_ earlier. Just fucking _kiss_ me already." Fiona's voice was low and close to a growl as she pulled Myrtle's hands close to her heaving chest.

A semblance of the very smile Fiona mentioned crossed Myrtle's lips and she remained ridiculously calm and composed. "Delusion is a side effect of chemo, and alcohol doesn't help your state either. I'm afraid you're very mistaken, Fiona. The only kiss I'll give you is one that I blow goodbye to you when we burn you at the stake for killing Madison."

"She's still alive, as I said earlier, so good luck with that silly endeavor. Let's talk about a little deal for you and I instead." Fiona let Myrtle's hands drop between them and brushed her fingers through Myrtle's wild hair, palms coming to rest on either side of her face. "We have some time to take advantage of for ourselves. Now kiss me."

Myrtle let out a scoff of disbelief, but her hands betrayed her stoic portrayal and crept to grasp a hold of Fiona's hips. "No. And don't even try to entrance me, it won't work, darling. Those flames gave me more power than I could even dream of having."

"I don't need to bother, because I know you want it." Fiona dipped her head forward, pushing Myrtle's hair back on one side so she could flick the tip of her tongue on the side of her neck just below her ear lobe. Keeping the woman's head in place with her other hand so she couldn't resist, another lick was given to the side of Myrtle's jaw. "Kiss me, Myr...you know you want to." Fiona's voice was sultry and pleading all in one, and her hips shifted against Myrtle's body.

Eyes shut in automatic response to the tantalizing touch on the sensitive skin of her neck, but Myrtle remained steadfast in her resistance. "What I want...is for you to get _off_ of me so I can play the piano, you drunken lush." Resolute and firm, Myrtle didn't realize her fingertips were digging into Fiona's hips.

"How about we get each other off? You can practice piano by using those fingers on me." Even with the inordinate amount of alcohol she had consumed, Fiona forged ahead without a single slur in her semi-drunken seduction. Her tongue was placed with careful calculation on Myrtle's pulse points along her neck, grazing the witch's skin, one hand keeping her unwieldy red hair out of the way while the other hand pulled a fistful of strands gently.

The hair pulling apparently uncorked Myrtle as a soft groan escaped her. Feeling Fiona's gaze latch onto her, she knew it was futile to try and resist her now. Stubborn to the bitter end, Myrtle bit onto the inside of her lip, refusing to show any other signs of breaking.

"I heard that, you dirty slut. Nice try. I'm impressed you held out this long...now kiss me. You don't want me to initiate it or you'll be sorry." Fiona nabbed Myrtle's ear lobe between her teeth and bit down sharply as if to foreshadow her threat.

Digging her fingertips into Fiona's hips harshly, Myrtle ducked her head just enough so she could press her lips to the woman's exposed neck. As she relaxed somewhat, she released Fiona's hips, her palms skirting over her rounded behind to grope her bottom. Her body began to act on its own accord, nerve endings sparked by Fiona's very essence. A timid tongue danced over Fiona's neck for the briefest moment as her mouth sealed on soft skin.

Fiona let out a soft sigh of pleasure and triumph, fingernails dragging across a small spot of Myrtle's scalp before tugging the wavy strands again. "That's a good girl," she practically purred the words. With another tug of Myrtle's hair to pry her away from kissing her neck, Fiona tilted her head back to look at the unleashed submissive, as much of an oxymoron as that seemed. "Now, kiss me the way you're supposed to."


	2. Chapter 2

Despite the soft noise that betrayed her outward disinterest in Fiona's advances, Myrtle showed no other apparent signs of giving into the woman's siren song. Yes, she had kissed Fiona's neck, but once Fiona forced her to pull away from leaving a smear of red lipstick on her skin, Myrtle regained her footing in the struggle for her attention.

"In your dreams, cupcake. I gave you a kiss, and even threw in a bonus grab-ass, now let me up." Myrtle pressed her hands forward on Fiona's hips, forcing her back a few inches on her lap.

Jaw clenched tightly, Fiona narrowed her eyes and tugged the fistful of crimped amber tresses. "You call that a kiss? Pathetic. I think someone needs to teach you a lesson, Myrtle." Leaning forward so her lips were just a few inches from Myrtle's mouth, Fiona lowered her voice. "It just so happens that I have some time to teach an unruly student such as yourself." Fiona climbed off of her lap, her rear end nudging a few piano keys to sound a quirky note. "Come," she ordered. Keeping her fingers entwined in Myrtle's hair, she pulled lightly, waiting for Myrtle to follow her lead.

"Stop it! You're hurting me!" The words hissed out of Myrtle's mouth as she took a swipe at Fiona's arm to try and slap her away, but it only served to make the woman pull the hair more tautly.

Fiona yanked Myrtle up from the seat in front of the piano with some effort, and then released her hold once she was standing. Myrtle muttered under her breath, massaging her scalp with a hand as she glared at the unkempt blonde with the rumpled pencil skirt. Fiona allowed her to take a moment to attempt relief of her throbbing head, but then took both of Myrtle's hands and pinned them behind her lower back. Fingernails digging into Myrtle's wrists, she shoved her forward. "Upstairs."

"You're crazy, let me go." Her voice was hoarse and she eyed Fiona over her shoulder with a piercing gaze. Myrtle twisted her upper body and tried to shake the woman's hands off of her wrists to no avail. Fiona's body may have been weakened by cancer, but the strength of her grip was powerful enough to prevent Myrtle from pulling away.

"You'll make this much easier for both of us if you stop resisting." Fiona snapped icily. She gave another rough shove against the woman's lower back, and Myrtle finally obliged, trudging forward with Fiona close behind. She steered her toward the staircase, taking the steps slowly so she could keep a good grip on Myrtle's wrists. It was an awkward moment when they passed Cordelia in the hallway, her mismatched eyes immediately lowering to Fiona's hands on Myrtle's behind her back.

"...should I even ask?" Cordelia paused in the midst of her stride toward the staircase, watching the two with uncertainty and suspicion.

Fiona chuckled, and withdrew her hands so she could rest them on her hips. "I was just showing your dear Auntie where she could rest for a while. Had to help her ancient ass up the stairs was all." A little smirk crossed her lips and she shrugged her shoulders, glancing to Myrtle for confirmation.

"I'm alright, little bird, just positively exhausted," Myrtle reassured the young blonde in an even tone, clasping her hands together behind her back casually.

Cordelia nodded her head once with a tight-lipped smile. "Alright, I'll be in the greenhouse if you need anything." The offer was plainly directed toward Myrtle, but she glanced to her mother just the same. It would do no harm to present a picture of forgiveness. Turning, Cordelia descended the stairs to leave the two alone in the hallway.

Once Cordelia was out of sight, Fiona returned her vice-like grip to Myrtle's gloved hands. "Good, we don't have to worry about being too loud now. I have a feeling you're going to be a teacher's pet, Myrtle," she said with a low voice. A nudge was given to the redhead and they continued to Fiona's expansive bedroom. After locking the doors, Fiona approached Myrtle who stood in the center of the room, arms crossed over her chest. Everything about her body language spoke of clear defiance.

Ignoring the cold vibes Myrtle was plainly casting in her direction, Fiona strode to her dresser, rummaging through a drawer. She enclosed something in her hand and moved behind Myrtle, pulling both arms behind the woman's back again rather forcefully. Any attempts at resisting Fiona were overcome by the persistent blonde as she swiftly wrapped cold metal cuffs around one of Myrtle's wrists. "Shit, I knew I should have ordered a different headboard for this room. But we'll make it work."

"Are you kidding me?" Myrtle scoffed in disbelief that she now had a handcuff around one of her wrists. She tried to pull her arm free, but only earned a few scratches from Fiona's nails. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"You in a few minutes." Fiona pulled Myrtle to the bed and used both hands to push her by her shoulders to sit on the edge of the mattress. Another firm shove and then Myrtle was on her back, starting to shift her weight to try and sit up. "Nuh uh, cookie, you're not going anywhere." Fiona hiked up her skirt again and climbed on top of Myrtle, a knee coming to rest on either side of the woman's thighs. She leaned forward, pulling Myrtle's arms above her head and with a 'click' the other handcuff was latched around her other wrist. Fiona loomed over her prey with a predatory smile, her arms stretched above her head as her hands lingered on Myrtle's hands.

Twisting her body several times, Myrtle finally stilled her movements, glaring up at the Supreme through her cat-eyed frames. "I'd slap that smile right off of your pretty face if I could."

"Oh, you'll leave the slapping to me for now. If you're a good little pet, I _might _let you have a turn later." Fiona dipped her head, running the tip of her tongue along the bottom of Myrtle's jawline and then sat up, still straddling her hips. "Let's get this overbearing frock off of you." Narrating her next move, Fiona's fingers felt along the silky material of Myrtle's gown, searching for the source of closure so she could undo it. "It wouldn't kill you to find some more...revealing clothing, you know." The high collar of the cloak parted, and Fiona followed it downward, separating the two sides to reveal a silky black slip beneath.

"Not everyone has to parade around and prostitute their body like you do." Exhaling sharply as cool air met her skin, Myrtle fidgeted under Fiona, her arms still stretched above her head.

"I've never once sold myself for sex, Myrtle. Besides, you couldn't seem to stop staring down my jacket earlier, so quit being such a hypocrite." The cloak was now undone and pushed off to the side, leaving Myrtle's arms covered. The short black slip came to the middle of her thighs, incrementally inching up as she continued to twist under the blonde in a sad attempt to escape. "Alright, time for lesson number one." Fiona climbed off of the bed for a moment, removing Myrtle's shoes, and then discarded her own clothing with the exception of her black lace undergarments. The black heels remained on her feet, just because she felt they gave her a more authoritative air.

With feline grace, Fiona slunk back onto the bed so that she was kneeling perpendicular to the woman's body. Slender fingers slid up Myrtle's legs to lift the slip to her waist, and then Fiona hooked her fingers onto her underwear to tug them off. She glanced up at Myrtle who simply laid there, collected and calm.

Inside, though, was another story. Myrtle felt a culmination of feelings; anger, shame, distrust and worst of all, pure lust and desire. She had no intention of letting Fiona know she was right, though. She strained against the handcuffs again, the metal pinching her wrists. "Even if you never took money, you're still a whore." Myrtle tilted her chin upward haughtily.

The comment had its intended affect as Fiona's palm connected with Myrtle's cheek sharply. Her head bounced to the side from the force of the blow and her skin began to redden. "You watch your filthy mouth, or I'll do more than that little love tap." A warning glare was shot toward the redhead and Fiona returned her attention to Myrtle's lower body. Bending at the waist, she pressed her lips to Myrtle's nearly concave stomach, swirling lazy circles with her tongue. Tracing a line from each protruding hipbone a few times, Fiona's hand drifted up the woman's leg toward her thigh. She smirked as she felt Myrtle's body shift under her, also realizing her breathing was already starting to become erratic. Fiona pursed her lips to suck at the skin of her stomach, inching her mouth south after each gentle suckle. Soon her lips rested on the mound between Myrtle's thighs. Not one to give mercy, Fiona got to work, curling her tongue into the woman's folds. A few laps of her tongue later and she was twirling her tongue up against the bundle of nerves roughly. Instead of being too giving, Fiona lowered her tongue back to the soft folds, using two fingers to part the skin so she could insert her tongue into Myrtle's walls to test for any signs of wetness. Pleasantly surprised and rather pleased that she was right once again, Fiona's tongue met slippery velvet walls and her chin was soon soaked with fluids.

Myrtle had done well to restrain herself from whimpering or releasing any other noise, mostly due in part to digging her nails into her palms. She pressed her body into the mattress, intent on not squirming or thrusting her hips against Fiona's face. Internally, she was practically melting and on the cusp of breaking down but her resilient nature battled for dominance. Myrtle simply did not want Fiona to win yet again so she maintained the composure of a statue, distracting herself by calling to mind different incantations.

The minimal reactions from Myrtle were disconcerting so Fiona decided to ramp up her ministrations. "Alright, we'll play your way," she murmured against the woman's pelvic area. One more lap of her tongue across Myrtle's folds and then Fiona stopped.

She rolled Myrtle onto her stomach, bringing her hand to smack her bare bottom enough to leave a stinging reminder of the act. A quiet squeak escaped Myrtle and she pushed her rear into the air reflexively, elbows now propping half of her up. A knowing smirk graced Fiona's lips and she quickly laid down on her back, still perpendicular to Myrtle's body. Hands taking a hold of Myrtle's waist, she guided her to shimmy over so that her head was now under Myrtle's thighs.

"Be a bad girl for me, Myr...ride my mouth." Fiona reached above to slap Myrtle's bare behind once again, coaxing another whimper from the woman. Angling her head upward to close the distance between her and Myrtle's center, Fiona plunged her tongue into the dripping core above her head, not at all surprised when Myrtle began to rotate her hips firmly against her mouth. Fiona dragged the tip of her tongue along the woman's inner walls as the movement changed course to Myrtle frantically thrusting her hips so that Fiona's tongue stroked her insides.

Another well-placed smack to her ass drew a loud moan, and Myrtle tensed above Fiona's head as her orgasm rolled through her lower body. Her frame heaved with the exertion, and she rubbed her folds against Fiona's wet mouth a moment longer before shifting her body over to collapse on her stomach.

Fiona wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and tilted her head to examine the handcuffed woman who now had her face buried into the bed. "Now that's how you kiss a lady." Smirking, Fiona languidly lifted a hand to rest it on Myrtle's backside as she lay prone, unable to respond.


	3. Chapter 3

"I do hope you took some notes on how to kiss. That one happens to be one of my personal favorites." Fiona remained on her back, one arm lifted so she could trail a finger along the curve of Myrtle's rounded flesh of her rear to the back of her thigh, tickling her skin. "But my, my...I never had you pegged for such a deviant...masochist, dear Myrtle." The words dripped condescendingly from Fiona's lips as she rolled onto her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows. She leaned to one side and lifted an arm to deliver a sharp blow with her open palm to the woman's exposed derrière. A smirk toyed at her lips as Myrtle groaned. "Such a bad girl...pretending you want nothing to do with me. And how I see it, well, spanking is reserved as a _reward _for bad girls like you." Her voice was low and tinged with the threat of staying true to her word. Raising her arm about a foot higher in the air, Fiona's hand came crashing down in another stinging smack on Myrtle's rear end, the pale flesh taking on a ruddy appearance.

Wrists still ensnared by the metal cuffs as she laid on her stomach, Myrtle's arms stretched above her head. She clutched at the blankets to try and anchor herself, but couldn't control the fidgeting from her body after each slap on her naked flesh. It felt deliciously wonderful, to feel the harsh contrast of pain and pleasure, but she didn't dare let one word slip to Fiona. No, she would continue to battle the dominating Supreme, and _allow_ her the disillusion that she was in control, when in fact, Myrtle had her doing everything _she_ desired. "You can let me go now, you bitch." Myrtle's remark was muffled slightly by the blankets until she lifted her head. "Get these damn things off of me - I did what you wanted."

Fiona let out a full fledged laugh, momentarily dropping her head to the bed. "Oh, you amuse me. We're not even close to being done here." She pushed herself up and off of the bed to stand, steadying herself in her undoubtedly high-priced designer heels. "You're one naughty witch, Myrtle. One lesson simply won't do. The next one will be rather trying for you, I'm sure." Fiona crossed the room in her lace undergarments, glancing over her shoulder to see that Myrtle was watching her, her red hair even more untamed. Bending at the waist and ensuring Myrtle could catch a clear view of her actions, Fiona lingered longer than necessary to rustle through the dresser drawer. "Patience. It's a virtue, so they say." Shifting her weight from one side to the other, she cast another peek over to Myrtle who had yet to avert her eyes. "And I intend to show you why that's so true." Finally, she straightened, a somewhat slender black feather tickler in hand along with a night mask used for obscuring light from the occupant's eyes. Returning to the bed, Fiona stood on the side where Myrtle's head rested so she could set the items beside her. "Roll onto your back."

The redhead obliged, and rolled over with some effort given the awkward position of her arms above her head still entangled with her overbearing coat as well. Fiona bent forward and leaned over Myrtle, taking the time to purposefully brush her chest against the woman's face, lace material and cleavage skimming her glasses and her nose. She smirked as she felt Myrtle draw in a short breath. Grasping the hem of the black slip, she pulled it up completely until it was bunched under Myrtle's armpits, exposing the rest of her porcelain skin. Another teasing graze of her cleavage was smoothed over Myrtle's face as Fiona straightened so she could maneuver the cloak and the slip up Myrtle's arms so her clothing only covered her handcuffed hands now in a pile of fabric.

Myrtle's body shivered at the exposure of her skin, and she rolled her hips from side to side, drawing her knees up together on her side as if trying to curl up on the bed. "You're disgustingly evil, can't you just let me go already?"

"Not a chance. Stop talking." With a tone that bespoke finality, Fiona snatched the eyeglasses off of the woman's face and slipped the sleeping mask over her head to cover her eyes, caressing the redhead's wild tresses into some sort of controlled mess. She traced her manicured nails over Myrtle's mouth, pushing her bottom lip down with her index finger. Myrtle let out another short breath, not taking the bait to bite the bitch's finger, but instead let her tongue sneak out to lick at the offending digit. "That's a good kitten." With a satisfied smirk, Fiona climbed onto the bed, kneeling next to Myrtle's head. She dragged her fingertips down the woman's neck to the hollow of her collarbone before stopping right before the swell of her breasts. Settling into the kneeling position comfortably, Fiona picked up the feather tickler and dusted it over Myrtle's neck and collarbone, retracing her fingertips' path. "If you show me how patient you can be, I'll consider letting you go," she whispered while staring at the nude body in front of her. The black feathers paused at Myrtle's collarbone and were slowly dragged down over the top of her breasts without touching the hardening peaks of her nipples.

Myrtle squirmed, compiling a list of every derogatory insult toward Fiona she could think of silently in her mind. This was pure torture, but thankfully it was the kind of torture that she could endure. As the feathers circled the soft flesh of her breasts, now coming down the side of her ribs to dust beneath the two swells of flesh, Myrtle choked back a whimper. Not being able to see Fiona or what she was doing made it all the more enticing, but also began to drive her crazy. Recalling the vision of the shapely blonde bending over by the dresser to give quite a display of her rear end covered only in black lace underwear, Myrtle groaned inwardly. She wanted so terribly to _touch_ Fiona. If not with her bound hands, then her eyes, and now both had been taken away. The feathers began to travel lower, tickling the expanse of her slack abdomen, and then the width of her hips.

Knowing all too well that patience was something Myrtle excelled at in other areas of her life, Fiona only allowed the feathers to travel between the two points Myrtle wanted sated the most. She brushed the feathers lightly on the woman's pelvic bone for a moment and then began the trail back up to slide the toy between her breasts. "I'm surprised, really. Not one peep so far..." With a chuckle, Fiona traced the sides of Myrtle's body from just under her arms, along her ribcage, waist, hips, and the tops of her thighs, always making sure to keep the feathers just barely touching the area of her pelvic region. Using her free hand, Fiona couldn't help but brush her fingertips over her own collarbone and just below it, eyes closing briefly at the pleasant tickle.

Her breathing became labored, intensifying with each minute that passed with the damned feathers taunting her senses, but Myrtle remained quiet. She would squirm from time to time, hips involuntary rolling upward as the feathers came close to the one spot she most craved attention. In an attempt to center herself, Myrtle focused on the sensation of the toy making its course on her naked flesh, seeming to light a fire wherever it went. Somehow managing to get her breathing more under control, she turned her head to the side and let out a soft moan. To hell with being patient and stubbornly hiding her true feelings. To hell with the Supreme who thought she ruled over all. Myrtle may have been a loyal subject, but the bitch was now answering to _her_ body's needs, and in a twisted way that aroused her even more. "Oh, Fiona..." The words left her mouth unexpectedly, and for a moment she half-wished that she had been gagged instead of blinded.

Letting out a quiet noise that indicated she was pleased with the mention of her name, Fiona slid her hand down her own chest, giving her breast a squeeze before gliding lower. As a reward, Fiona finally flicked the feathery toy over the hardened pebbles of Myrtle's chest, eliciting a whimper from the woman. Hearing Myrtle speak her name in such a manner did little to relax her needs, if anything it fueled her desire, and so her free hand continued downward to rest between her thighs.

"More, please," Myrtle gasped, pressing her face into the soft flesh of her own arm.

All too happy to oblige, Fiona stroked the feathers back and forth over Myrtle's chest, watching the woman's nude form writhe on the bed. Timing it perfectly, she skimmed her fingers around the edges of her lace undergarments and inserted her index finger into herself to mimic the same stroking inside her damp center. "Say my name again," she ordered, her voice rasping with the effort of trying to catch her own breath now.

Defiance reappeared again and Myrtle was silent for a moment, only focused on the tantalizing touch of the barely existent feathers on the taut skin of her breasts. She felt as though if she concentrated hard enough she could induce the release she was craving with just the feel of the tickling on her chest. With a heavy breath, she gave in, though, and whimpered the woman's name. "Fiona, baby, please."

Coming undone with the plea, Fiona rocked her hips methodically against her palm, using her thumb to circle the small bundle of nerves that would shoot pleasure through her body. Unfortunately, Myrtle wasn't so lucky for direct contact. The feather toy was swept across the fully erect nipples and then downward to her spread legs, dusting between her thighs. Fiona dragged the feathers up and down between Myrtle's legs, tickling the folds of her womanhood.

While Myrtle craved a more direct contact, she knew that wouldn't happen as suggested with the motion she felt next to her on the bed, so she continued to concentrate on the touch of the feathers against her wet folds, drawing in deep shuddering breaths as she bucked her hips upward. The promise of release was so close, but she needed something else. "What exactly are you doing to yourself, Fiona?" she asked breathlessly.

"Touching myself," she said quietly. "Sliding my finger inside of me where it's nice and wet, and rubbing on my clit. Pretend those feathers are my fingers." Gasping from her endeavor, Fiona closed her eyes for a moment, rotating her thumb furiously against herself.

The words from the woman's sultry voice along with the image invoked in her mind served to guide Myrtle over the roadblock to achieving complete bliss. She thrust her hips against the feather tickler with an indulgent cry, and Fiona let her do so, rubbing the toy firmly against her center.

Fiona paused in her quest to finish herself, withdrawing her hand from between her legs, and waited for Myrtle's hips to cease movement as she slowly traced the woman's body upward to her breasts again with the toy. Her own breathing had yet to steady as she leaned forward. "'Baby'? That's not what you'd say to someone you can't stand. You're a terrible liar, Myrtle. One that should be punished some more." Flicking the feathers over Myrtle's pale breasts, Fiona then set the item next to her. "Now, what should that punishment be?"


End file.
